


Mornings and Knights

by agerefandom (tazia101)



Series: Good Omens Regression [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Regression, Fluff, Irresponsible Use of Miracles, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, We Need Better Regression Tags On Here, agere, bathtime, good communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazia101/pseuds/agerefandom
Summary: This is the first time Crowley has woken up in the morning still regressed, after an evening of age regression with Aziraphale as his caregiver. (Technically can be read alone, but best read after my 'Evenings of Eternity' fic.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Regression [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094612
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Mornings and Knights

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr account, @agerefandom. I'm always taking requests from sfw blogs for age regression fics!
> 
> I use non-sexual kink tags because AO3 doesn't have a great system for tagging age regression yet, and I hope I can popularize the 'agere' tag for the future. 
> 
> Hoping to write more Good Omens in the future! I'm rather attached to these two and the dynamic I'm exploring in this series.

“Up you go!” Aziraphale caught Crowley around the middle, lifting him gently towards the midmorning sun. He was cheating a bit, ignoring the gravity that should be pulling them back down to the ground, but he was sure that Crowley wouldn’t notice.

Crowley was laughing, wiggling in Aziraphale’s grasp. He stretched his fingers up towards the blue sky, dark against the shining backdrop.

Aziraphale brought him back down into an embrace, holding him tight. “There’s my little one!” he exclaimed, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s bedhead. Neither of them had gotten dressed before running outside this morning, after a quick breakfast of cereal and a longer cleanup of said breakfast. Crowley had certainly gotten into the spirit of making a mess as a toddler.

“I want to play!” Crowley protested, trying to get out of Aziraphale’s arms.

Crowley didn’t really go in for the baby talk, but Aziraphale could tell how much less he filtered himself. How different he was like this, how open. Aziraphale was amazed every time by how much trust Crowley was putting in him, to take care of him and see this part of him. It had been just over a month since Aziraphale had first raised the topic, only four evenings of exploring Crowley’s regression.

Crowley had taken to it like a duck to water, from finger-painting to playing pretend. Aziraphale was hard-pressed to keep up with his toddler energy, but he admired this new form of Crowley as much as he loved the other lives they had shared together. It was nice to have a natural place with this version of Crowley, each of them constructed to fit the other: Aziraphale the one with snacks and napkins, and Crowley with a mischievous grin and fast-running legs.

“Remember to stay in front of the house,” Aziraphale told Crowley before he let him run off into the field. The backyard was still sizeable, but it dropped off into a sheer cliff that Aziraphale didn’t want Crowley going near when he was regressed.

Crowley didn’t pause to acknowledge the warning as he bolted out of Aziraphale’s grasp into a longer patch of grass. He batted at the fronds that bobbed at the level of his chest, then went into a complicated martial arts routine that flattened a large section of the poor greenery. He flipped between coordination and childish stumbling steps, a contradiction in movement. Aziraphale leaned against the gate and watched him, calling out encouragement every now and then. He loved to watch Crowley play, showing an internal drive and joy that Aziraphale didn’t often see in him.

Crowley was now performing some speech in the center of the grass, attempting to threaten the remaining fronds into submission while illustrating the consequences with punches to the air.

Aziraphale smiled fondly at the sight of Crowley yelling, dressed in a new t-shirt with two crossed swords on front. Crowley, as a toddler, had an obsession with knights and weaponry. Aziraphale was almost convinced that it was adult Crowley mocking him, knowing just how much Aziraphale had hated their days in knightly armour, but Crowley was much too genuinely excited as a toddler to have a nefarious agenda. So there were pledges of loyalty and honor, quests for imaginary treasure.

Aziraphale was thinking about getting Crowley some kind of playset that was themed around knights, but he wasn’t sure if that would be taking things too far. He would have to ask Crowley when he was feeling grown up.

“Help me siege the castle!” Crowley yelled, pointing at the tree in their yard with his newest ‘sword,’ a broken piece of wood that Aziraphale had dulled on both ends with a quiet miracle.

“At your service, my liege!” Aziraphale called, running to his side. “I come with my bow!”

“Good.” Crowley took his position, chest puffed out and sword raised high. “Shoot them all! But don’t hurt them too much.”

“No worries,” Aziraphale assured him. “All of my arrows are covered in sleep dust, and they’ll fall asleep as soon as they’re hit.”

“Brilliant!” Crowley swung his sword around once with a fierce war-cry and rushed at the tree, Aziraphale obediently loosing imaginary arrows over his head at the invisible enemy.

“They’re no match!” Aziraphale called as Crowley slashed at the trunk with his stick. He wouldn’t do any real harm to the tree, Aziraphale knew. And if he accidentally hit too hard, they could always heal it later. They both loved the shade of its leaves too much to allow it wounds from silly games. “You’re too good!”

“None can defeat me!” Crowley cried.

With one last thrust to the trunk, Crowley dropped his sword for a victory lap around the tree, his fists held high.

“The knight victorious!” Aziraphale said, exaggerating a bow. “How can we repay you?”

“No repayment,” Crowley said imperiously. “I do what I do for the good of the chivalric code. As all men should.”

“A noble knight,” Aziraphale nodded. “Truly.”

“Can I have a medal?” Crowley’s eyes came together, and his eyes were wide. Aziraphale laughed, recognizing what writers would call ‘puppy-dog eyes.’

“You may have a cookie, darling one, and that will be your medal.” Aziraphale held out his arms and Crowley jumped into them, curling long limbs in until Aziraphale was supporting his weight entirely. “And a bath for your grass-stained knees.”

“I don’t need a bath!’ Crowley protested, but Aziraphale knew from previous discussions that a bath was something Crowley had been wanting to try for a while. Neither of them usually took baths, able to miracle away any blemishes that settled on them. It would be a new experience for both of them, and all the better for being tried together.

“But don’t you remember the new duck we bought for your bath time?” Aziraphale coaxed as he carried Crowley towards the house. “I think he deserves a chance to float around.”

“Oh, true!” Crowley brightened, squirming in Aziraphale’s grasp until he could wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, nuzzling into his chest. “And will it be very warm?”

“The warmest,” Aziraphale promised. “And you can take a nap afterwards.” The door opened politely for them and Crowley’s shoes unlaced themselves, tucking themselves away in their proper spot. Aziraphale toed off his own shoes and carried Crowley down the hall to the bathroom, sitting him gently on the closed toilet seat.

The running water was calming, sound and steam filling the room as Crowley chattered about the morning and his escapades. Aziraphale sat on the edge of the tub, one hand testing the water’s temperature, smiling and listening to Crowley’s stories. Once the bath was full and warm, he helped Crowley undress and watched him clamber into the tub, settling in with a sigh of contentment. Aziraphale could practically see him soaking up the warmth.

Just as Aziraphale started to wish that the bath was big enough to fit two, there was suddenly enough room for them both. Aziraphale blinked, fairly certain he hadn’t made that happen. Crowley stretched his arms over his head, wiggling back and forth to send waves through the bath, then grinned at Aziraphale, reaching out a hand in his direction.

Aziraphale laughed and started unbuttoning his shirt. “If you wanted me to come in, you could have just said so.”

“You need to wash my hair!” Crowley pointed out, grabbing for the shampoo bottle and making a little sound of surprise when it fell into the bath water with a splash.

“Patience,” Aziraphale said, scooping the bottle up and putting it on the side of the bathtub as he stepped into the warm water. He’d made it a bit too hot for himself, knowing that Crowley would appreciate the extra heat, and his pale skin turned rosy red as the water touched it. He sank into the water carefully, trying not to jostle Crowley. The tub might be big enough for two now, but it was still a bit of a squeeze with Crowley’s long legs. “Okay, lean back,” Aziraphale said when he was settled.

Crowley obediently leaned back against Aziraphale’s chest, and they both huffed a contented sigh at the same time.

The world was full of soft steam and wonderful warmth. Crowley’s familiar sharp lines were pressed against him, head on Aziraphale’s chest and their arms pressed together on the sides of the bathtub. Aziraphale could feel the inhuman heat coming from Crowley’s skin, could feel the lines of his ribs as he breathed. Aziraphale wished they could stay here forever, basking in the water and the intimacy. He wrapped his arms around Crowley, tugging him closer and hooking a chin over Crowley’s freckled shoulder. Crowley nuzzled his cheek against Aziraphale’s, damp hair tickling Aziraphale’s nose.

“I love you very much, little one.” There were no words for the pressing feeling in Aziraphale’s chest, but those would have to do.

“Love you too,” Crowley murmured into the quiet air.

After a moment of silence, Crowley started playing with the water, splashing it between his hands. Aziraphale laughed, unwrapping his arms from around him so that he could play. Crowley didn’t have a long attention span when he regressed, preferring to be moving at any given moment. Sometimes Aziraphale wished he was more interested in cuddles, but he was happy enough to spend the time with Crowley however he wanted to.

The rest of the bath passed in a cycle of suds and rinses, with Aziraphale doing his best to keep the soap out of Crowley’s eyes and give him enough time to play with his rubber duck in between bottles of shampoo and conditioner and bodywash. Crowley liked pushing the duck under the water and then watching it shoot up to the surface, laughing delightedly every time.

“Come on, darling one, out you come.” Aziraphale had some trouble coaxing Crowley out of the nice warm water, but eventually it cooled down enough that he clambered out and into the towel Aziraphale had been holding for the last ten minutes. Aziraphale towelled him off with determined scrubbing, and an unusual gust of indoor wind finished the job, pushing Crowley’s hair into an absurd shape and making him laugh.

Aziraphale carried Crowley back to bed and put him into pyjamas, changing into his own comfortable clothes. Crowley willingly crawled under the blankets, but left the corner turned down in a clear invitation.

Aziraphale hesitated: he’d been planning to do some reading this afternoon, and a nap was not really part of that plan… but Crowley looked so cozy that Aziraphale eventually gave in and climbed after him, wrapping Crowley in his arms and closing his eyes to let the now-familiar darkness of sleep claim him for a little while longer.


End file.
